


wish you were sober

by shortlock



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Confessions, Drinking, M/M, Pining, based on conan gray's song, i wrote this in under ten hours so welp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:29:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27562312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortlock/pseuds/shortlock
Summary: Oikawa was seated on a large table littered with red cups, a girl with dark brown hair standing between his thighs. He was kissing her so fiercely, pressing her body against his so closely as if they would have died without the physical contact. The girl’s hands were tangled up in his hair, his natural bangs in a state of disarray. Even through the poorly lit room and crowd of people, he could see the scattered red marks across Oikawa’s neck, the girl’s lipstick stains mixing in with them.Oh.Iwaizumi felt his heart drop to his stomach.He wanted to throw up.oh, if only tooru were sober.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 6
Kudos: 120





	wish you were sober

_wish you were so- wish you were so- wish you were so-_

_i wish you were sober._

Iwaizumi twirled the unlit cigarette in his hand, contemplating the red lighter a stranger had handed him before throwing both in the overflowing garbage can beside him. He inhaled a puff of cold air instead, stumbling forward when a boy with blond hair bumped into his back, muttering a distracted apology. The smell of liquor and pizza filled his lungs, causing him to grow annoyed as he began to look for the kitchen in hopes of finding an untouched box for himself. Unfortunately for him, he was only met with random strangers making out, too intoxicated and lustful to find a freaking room. Honestly, what did he expect from a party full of over 400 drunk college students on a Friday night? 

_“Come on, Iwa-chan, it’ll be fun, I promise!”_ Oikawa had said in hopes of getting Iwaizumi out of their shared apartment. 

Well, he was out, and so not having fun.

He exited the kitchen and moved to take a seat on a nearly empty staircase, leaning down to untie his shoes only to lace them back up. He felt sick, on the verge of throwing up despite only having one sip of beer. His head spun, but perhaps that was due to the multitude of dizzying disco lights and blaring music.

He didn’t want to be here, at this mansion-sized house crowded with faces he didn’t recognize, drinks he had no intention of chugging, cigarettes he wasn’t old enough to lit. He had come to the University of Tokyo on a volleyball scholarship to study sports medicine, and that was all he really wanted to do. Not get aimlessly drunk and high every weekend like… like Oikawa. 

Iwaizumi sighed. His best friend had joined him in Tokyo, but he was far more popular even in college, getting invited to endless parties with those three or four years their senior. Oikawa never failed to attend one, but he always failed in getting Iwaizumi to accompany him, mostly because the latter simply didn’t care for these kinds of things. No, he had already gotten drunk once in his life due to Hanamaki, and that one time was good enough for him. 

He shook his head, awkwardly sliding towards the wall on his left to let a kissing couple climb up the stairs, hushed laughs coming from the two. 

“This party’s shit,” he mumbled, pulling out his phone to check the time. _One eighteen._ He wanted to leave and go back home, maybe grab a gatorade or ice cream on the way, but he wanted to go anywhere but here. 

He stood up, accidentally kicking down an emptied bottle of liquor, and began to shuffle through the massive crowd of people in search of Oikawa. Sure, the setter had abandoned him the minute they entered the house, but he’d just tell him he was leaving then head out. Maybe Oikawa would come with him. At least, that was the plan, but even after ten minutes of searching the basement, pool, parking lot, and kitchen, he still hadn’t seen the familiar head of brown hair. 

“Try the living room with the pool table,” someone had suggested when Iwaizumi had asked him if he’d seen an obnoxiously loud boy. So Iwaizumi tripped over two giggling girls on his way to the said room, balling his hands into fists inside his pockets once he had _finally_ seen Oikawa. 

He began to wish he wasn’t so successful in finding him.

Oikawa was seated on a large table littered with red cups, a girl with dark brown hair standing between his thighs. He was kissing her so fiercely, pressing her body against his so closely as if they would have died without the physical contact. The girl’s hands were tangled up in his hair, his natural bangs in a state of disarray. Even through the poorly lit room and crowd of people, he could see the scattered red marks across Oikawa’s neck, the girl’s lipstick stains mixing in with them. 

_Oh._

Iwaizumi felt his heart drop to his stomach. 

He wanted to throw up.

In the haste of wanting to get out of here, he had all but forgotten how Oikawa spent his nights besides drinking. 

It wasn’t that Iwaizumi didn’t know, because of course he knew, as it was always him who put Oikawa to sleep after his drunken adventures. He had always noticed the faded and newly added marks on his neck, the faint scent of a cheap perfume he most certainly didn’t own, the messed up hair that can only be achieved after a night of bliss.

He felt so stupid, so mindless. He wanted to tell Oikawa he was leaving, hoping he would follow too, and they could go home and watch a movie and eat kettle corn like they used to as children. He couldn’t believe his foolishness - why would Oikawa come with him, leave a girl so obviously enamored by him, to watch a kids’ movie? It was such an idiotic thought that he let out a humorless laugh. 

Why had he chosen the least available person to fall hopelessly in love with? 

Iwaizumi, now most definitely feeling sick, turned around and headed towards the front of the house, the image of Oikawa’s swollen lips replaying in his mind on a constant loop. He paused against the wall to close his eyes, willing to think of anything other than his setter, but failed. He started up again with half-opened eyes, slipping over fallen party streamers and made it outside to the parking lot when someone bumped into him.

“Yo’, Iwaizumi! You look like shit, bro - here, take a beer,” the guy said, and despite the fact that he knew his name, Iwaizumi couldn’t recall a single fact about the man in front of him. “Might help with that sour mood of yours.” The guy handed him a small yet heavy bottle, then with a clap on the back, left him holding a beer bottle. 

_Who the hell gives a man who looks sick more beer? Isn’t that the total opposite of what a sensible human being would do?_

The image of Oikawa kissing the girl flooded back to his mind, and with a grimace, he popped open the cap and took a long mouthful of the disgusting drink. It tasted awful, but Iwaizumi ignored that fact as he began to walk towards his apartment twenty minutes away. Occasionally taking a sip of the beer, he couldn’t decide whether he was beginning to feel even more lightheaded or carefree. He wondered if this was how Oikawa felt all the time, drowsy and dizzy, high on euphoric kisses, perhaps? He had never asked, and Oikawa had never shared.

He ran his free hand through his hair, tugging the ends in order to keep himself awake. He had to get home, damn it. 

Three hours later, Iwaizumi woke up to the sound of the front door opening, but he didn’t dare open his eyes as he laid on the sofa, low mumbling coming from television. _Shittykawa’s home,_ he thought, and he heard the faint thumping of Oikawa’s footsteps toward his bedroom. He shifted slightly, loosening his legs and drawing the blanket around him closer. His short nap hadn’t done much to quell his headache, unfortunately. 

He wondered how many girls Oikawa had kissed, how many bottles he drained. Had he even thought about Iwaizumi once? Questioned where his best friend went when he hadn’t seen him for over an hour? 

His head throbbed, and he heard Oikawa against the carpet of their makeshift living room. He felt a hand cup his cheek gently, and smelled the beer in Oikawa’s breath. Iwaizumi couldn’t see him, but his skin shivered against the fingers caressing his cheek. 

“I really like you, Iwa-chan,” he heard in a small, almost audible voice, and then Oikawa’s lips pressed against Iwaizumi’s for a tender kiss. It only lasted a few seconds before Oikawa pulled back, and Iwaizumi could now taste the liquor on his own lips. Oikawa left another kiss on Iwaizumi’s forehead before standing up and leaving. 

Oh. Another part of Oikawa’s routine. 

Iwaizumi opened his eyes, blinking a few times before they adjusted to the darkness of the room, the only light coming from the forgotten television. He frowned, disappointment coursing through his veins. 

It really was part of Oikawa’s routine.

Every weekend, he’d get drunk to the point where someone else had to drop him off at home, too intoxicated to walk on his own without falling on his bad knee. He’d go wherever Iwaizumi was sleeping, whisper, “I really like you, Iwa-chan,” before placing a kiss on the spiker’s lips. Iwaizumi had always been such a light sleeper, so of course he woke up to every sound Oikawa made at night, too light headed to care for how loud he was. 

The first time it happened, Iwaizumi had been too stunned to react, and by the time he had managed to gather a bearing on his nerves, Oikawa had already fallen asleep. The next day, he had expected the setter to say something, to say anything about the incident, but when that didn’t happen, he chalked it up to Oikawa being drunk.

Because that was the only reason Oikawa would ever say that to him, the only reason Oikawa would ever kiss him so sweetly. 

Because he was drunk. 

Iwaizumi wanted to scream. Why didn’t Oikawa keep his damn lips to himself? Why did he have to go out at night and dance with people whose names neither of them knew? Why did he have to get so wasted? Why did he have to come home, smelling like sweat and perfume and alcohol and smoke, and then kiss Iwaizumi, who he thought was asleep? Why couldn’t he do that when he knew Iwaizumi was awake? Why not in daylight? 

Being in love with Oikawa _sucked._

* * *

Despite his hatred for parties from the one he last attended, Iwaizumi found himself at another one only two weeks later, this time due to losing a bet with Oikawa. The two boys walked inside the house, Oikawa explaining the plot of the newest alien movie he watched. His fingers were latched onto Iwaizumi’s wrist, pulling him through the massive crowd of people. Neon blues and greens danced around Oikawa’s skin, and Iwaizumi thought the colors made him look _good._

They neared a darkened room, streamers and cups flooding the floor. Two guys approached Oikawa and Iwaizumi, clapping their backs and handing them each a bottle. 

“There you two are! We’ve been looking everywhere for you guys,” one of them said, and he somewhat recognized him as the backup outside hitter of the volleyball team. He frowned when he couldn’t recall his name. 

The other eyed Iwaizumi’s wrist, Oikawa’s hand still around it. “You two finally dating or something?”

Oikawa laughed, a grin forming on his face. “Nope, but you know how Iwa-chan is. He gets scared to go through large crowds on his own.” 

Iwaizumi let out a humorless chuckle. It was the opposite, actually. When they were younger, Oikawa would be too scared of large gatherings to go alone, so he’d hold onto Iwaizumi, as if he was his lifeline. Iwaizumi never minded it, always knowing that Oikawa needed a grounding figure near him. Over time, the habit simply stuck. 

Oikawa chatted with them for a few more minutes while Iwaizumi let the entire conversation fly over his head, not caring about anything except for Oikawa’s tightened grip. He felt so warm; maybe he shouldn’t have worn a sweatshirt. 

“Iwa-chan, come on, let’s go eat something.” Oikawa tugged on his sleeve, gesturing towards the kitchen, and Iwaizumi followed, somewhat hungry himself. They found two water bottles in the fridge, along with a half-eaten box of pizza, and settled onto the far-side of the room. 

Iwaizumi leaned against the kitchen island, feet awkwardly placed in order to avoid stepping on some fallen biscuits, when Oikawa hopped onto the countertop in front of him. He reached into the pocket of his ripped jeans, pulling out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter.

Iwaizumi stared at him. “You smoke?” he questioned when Oikawa lit a stick and blew out a puff of charcoal smoke. 

Oikawa shrugged in response, tilting his head towards Iwaizumi with a smirk. “Here and there.” 

Oh.

Right. Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he?

He continued to eat in silence, loud bubbles of laughter and pop music coming from the rooms around them, Oikawa alternating between taking sips of beer and smoking. 

_He’s only nineteen,_ Iwaizumi thought while glancing at Oikawa’s pink cheeks, _but he acts twenty-five, smoking and drinking like he’s been doing it for the past few years rather than the past few weeks._

Not for the first time, he wondered _why_ Oikawa did all this. 

He finished half of a pizza slice before throwing the rest away, gulping down a bottle of water instead. Oikawa was spinning the burnt cigarette stick in between his fingers when a girl came up to him, flirtatiously touching his shoulder and leaning into his ear. She slurred something inaudible, and from Oikawa’s excited eyes, it must have been nothing good. 

Iwaizumi pulled out his phone, pretending to answer a message as he watched Oikawa gently push her away and walk over to a littered table. He grabbed a plastic cup and filled it to the brim with alcohol before drowning the entire thing. The girl screamed in delight, and Oikawa came back to kiss her so passionately, Iwaizumi had to look away. 

Pocketing his phone, he left the kitchen, the bottle his teammate had handed him in his hand. With each step, the music around him began to get louder and louder. His chest burned, not from anything physical but with the irritation he felt towards Oikawa. He walked past a few guys playing beer pong on his way towards the pool. For the first time that night, he felt like he could breathe, _finally._ The crisp autumn air filled his lungs, and he popped open the cap of the beer bottle in his hand, taking a few disgusting sips. 

Why did Oikawa like this again?

Iwaizumi began to play a few games on his phone, alternating between that and finishing his bottle. It only made the sickening feeling in his stomach grow, but he ignored it, wanting any distraction from the pain of watching Oikawa kiss person after person, none him. 

_Someone, anyone, save me from this,_ he thought bitterly. 

Two hours later, Iwaizumi found himself carrying a drunken Oikawa, who began to drone on and on about some new volleyball play he wanted to try out. He smelled like liquor and perfume, the scent filling up Iwaizumi’s lungs. Despite drinking two bottles of beer, he was far more sober than Oikawa, seeing as he had thrown up both bottles immediately afterwards. 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa mumbled, his breath hot against Iwaizumi’s neck. 

Iwaizumi paused to get a better grip on the setter before replying, “Yeah?”

“I really like you, Iwa-chan,” he murmured, as if embarrassed by the words. 

He missed his footing, and almost fell forward, righting himself up at the last second. Sure, he had heard Oikawa whisper these words a dozen times by now, but they were all when he thought Iwaizumi was asleep. He most certainly wasn’t asleep right now.

He silently sighed. That didn’t change the fact that Oikawa was drunk. Iwaizumi had found him in a room upstairs surrounded by five liquor bottles. Based on his reddened cheeks and glassy eyes, Iwaizumi guessed he had drank all of them, and who knows how many more cigarettes he smoked. 

“Shut the hell up, Shittykawa.”

Both boys remained silent for the rest of the way home.

Iwaizumi let Oikawa drop down from his back once they reached the door of their apartment. He searched through his pockets for the keys when he felt Oikawa touch his wrist. Iwaizumi turned to look at him, sucking in a breath when Oikawa brought the wrist up to kiss the inside of it. 

“Oikawa, what are you-”

“I’m going to kiss you,” Oikawa interrupted to say, and before Iwaizumi could reply, he felt soft lips on top of his own. He tasted like lemons and beer, an odd combination but Iwaizumi loved it. Every other time Oikawa had kissed him, it was always so soft, so tender, but this time, Oikawa kissed him like he did everything else - with all his passion. They pulled away, gasping for air, and Iwaizumi let a hand run through Oikawa’s disheveled hair and-

He pushed Oikawa away, who stumbled backwards with a pained expression.

“You’re _drunk,_ you piece of shit. You shouldn’t go around kissing people, especially if you don’t mean it. I’m not one of your random hook-ups,” Iwaizumi scowled, ashamed at himself for getting so caught up. He was the near-sober one, after all. He turned around to face their door, fumbling with his keys in his haste to find the right one and get out of his best friend’s presence. 

Oikawa’s eyes began to tear up. “Wait, Iwa-chan, no, you don’t understand-”

“No, Oikawa, _you_ don’t understand,” Iwaizumi shouted, his heart threatening to jump out from his chest. “I’m tired of you kissing me whenever you think I’m asleep. It’s screwed up, especially because you don’t remember it in the morning.”

“Iwa-chan, you’re always awake when that happens?” His voice was so broken, so shocked. 

_“Yeah,_ I’m awake. Screw you, Oikawa.” He finally found the right key and shoved it into the lock, twisting it. He all but ran inside, throwing his shoes off to get away from Oikawa when the setter grabbed his hand once more. 

“Iwa-chan,” he whispered, sniffling. “Are you mad that I kissed you?”

“No,” Iwaizumi sighed, his own eyes burning. “No, whenever you kiss me, I just wish you were sober, Oikawa.” He pulled his hand back, and moved towards his room. “Take a shower and then go to sleep. Goodnight.”

* * *

The next time Iwaizumi saw Oikawa was four days later. He was seated on the floor, textbooks and papers surrounding him as he typed up his essay on his laptop. It was nearing midnight, when Oikawa had opened the front door and came in, freezing up when he saw Iwaizumi. 

“Hey,” Oikawa whispered, twisting his fingers together. 

Iwaizumi looked up, then tilted his head towards the sofa in front of him. “Hey. I’m almost done, so give me a minute.” A moment of hesitation later, and Oikawa sat down, reaching for Iwaizumi’s stack of papers to straighten them. Once he had finished his essay, Iwaizumi quickly cleared up everything, filing the papers into his textbooks and putting them in his school bag. 

“You’re not going anywhere tonight?” Iwaizumi asked, genuinely curious as he took in Oikawa’s attire of sweatpants and a hoodie. 

Oikawa shook his head, slumping into the couch and drawing his legs close to him. “Can we go on a drive?”

He glanced at the clock on the wall behind Oikawa. “This late? We have class tomorrow.”

“Please… if you’re not too busy, that is.”

Iwaizumi stood up and shrugged. “I got class at ten, so sure. Come on.” Right now was one of the few times in his life Iwaizumi couldn’t understand what was going on in Oikawa’s mind, so rather than questioning it, he went with it. He grabbed his keys and pulled on a jacket, since the air in Tokyo always felt like icicles at night. Oikawa followed him out the door and down the stairs, climbing into the passenger seat as soon as he unlocked the car. 

“Any preference on where to go?”

“No, Iwa-chan. Anywhere is fine.”

And so Iwaizumi started up the car and began to drive, Oikawa lowering his window to breathe in the fresh air. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Oikawa stick his arm out, the sleeve of his sweatshirt billowing in the wind. 

“Oi’, put your hand back in. It’s going to get chopped off if you keep doing that.”

Oikawa chuckled at that, a small smile growing on his face, but he ignored what he was just told to do. Iwaizumi always had this irrational fear that in some way, _somehow,_ the wind would sever off Oikawa’s arm, and that would just be tragic for both parties involved, because Oikawa’s his _setter._

Oikawa turned the radio on, changing the station until piano music began to play out. Satisfied, he leaned back, bringing his knees to his chest, arm still out in the air. Iwaizumi drove onto the freeway, not sure where to go so he kept driving straight. They stayed quiet for the most part, with occasional hums from Oikawa if he liked a particular song. 

It was nice, Iwaizumi realized, as he loosened his grip on the steering wheel. Driving around at night, windows down, music playing, Oikawa next to him… it was _really_ nice. He sort of wanted to never leave this moment. 

“Hey, Iwa-chan?”

“Yeah?”

Oikawa paused for a couple seconds before speaking. “I’m sober.”

“I can see that.”

“I- I’m sorry. For all the times I drank. And then came home and kissed you. I’m sorry. I just- I kept drinking, smoking, kissing so many people because-” He stopped, taking in a deep breath. “Iwa-chan, I thought that if I could distract myself, I’d be okay. But it didn’t work. It never worked, no matter how many times I wished it would. They just- They weren’t you.”

Iwaizumi kept his eyes trained on the road, veering towards the right. 

Of course Oikawa would use distraction to cope with his feelings. It didn’t matter what the problem was, Iwaizumi knew that Oikawa would _always_ avoid it. He’d distract himself using anything - volleyball, usually - not caring about the consequences of his actions. He always ran away, and Iwaizumi guessed that this time was no different than any other. 

He inhaled sharply, taking a few sharp turns and pulling into the parking lot of a grocery store. He tilted his head to look at Oikawa. 

“What do you mean?”

“I- I like _you,_ Iwa-chan. I’ve always liked _you.”_

He lowered his gaze to look at Oikawa’s lap, who was beginning to twist his fingers again, an antic born out of his nervousness. He held out his palm, saying, “Give me your hand.” 

Oikawa was probably expecting a different response, but nonetheless, he let Iwaizumi hold his hand, the spiker starting to rub small circles using his thumb. 

“We’ve known each other since elementary school,” Iwaizumi murmured, eyes locked onto their entwined palms. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I don’t know, Iwa-chan,” he replied in the same voice as Iwaizumi. “Fear?”

“Fear of what?”

He felt Oikawa shrug. “I don’t know. Rejection? Risking our friendship for something that may not work out? I wish I had an answer for you.” He let out a shaky breath. “I mean it, Iwa-chan. I really like you.”

Iwaizumi nodded along absentmindedly, his mind still stuck on the phrase that Oikawa was sober. He looked up to meet Oikawa’s eyes. “Okay. Kiss me then.”

Oikawa’s eyes widened in surprise. “Can I?”

“Yeah.”

So Oikawa leaned in and kissed Iwaizumi softly, as if experimenting just what he has to be doing. His chapstick was cherry flavored, and Iwaizumi breathed it all in. It felt good, so sweet, so natural, because for once, Oikawa was sober, and he was kissing Iwaizumi with a clear mind. 

When they pulled away, Iwaizumi let his forehead rest against Oikawa’s, the two trying to catch their breaths, yet huge smiles on both their faces. 

“I like you too, Shittykawa.”


End file.
